


A Nose in Need

by Malu_3 (Grainne)



Series: Merlin Summer Pornathon 2014 [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur Pendragon Returns, M/M, Man Out of Time, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Summer Pornathon 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grainne/pseuds/Malu_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six weeks back and Arthur feels he's coping admirably. And yet… This world, it smells all <i>wrong.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nose in Need

**Author's Note:**

> Entry for Challenge 7: The Five Senses (could choose any one or more of - or the absence of any one or more of - the classic five senses: Sight, Smell, Hearing, Taste, Touch).

Six weeks back and Arthur feels he's coping admirably. He's got his wits and two good hands, Merlin to guide him, and the computer for everything that Merlin can't, or won’t, explain. He's confident that he can learn, adapt, find new ways to be useful to Albion's people. And yet…

Everywhere he goes, he feels disoriented, like something's missing.

Around Merlin he puts on a brave face, but at night he breaks out in cold sweats, tossing and turning beneath the duvet. He clutches at his pillows to anchor himself, but they're no comfort. Always cool, always fresh, reeking of…well, _nothing_. He invariably punches them or flings them away, aching with a loneliness he doesn't remember from before. 

This world, it smells all _wrong._

~ > ~

He takes to hunting down familiar odours, a whiff of manure here, a hint of woodsmoke there, shouting a gleeful, "Well then keep up, Merlin!" as his nose carries him around another corner.

In London there are forges and stables still, spice shops that yield grains of paradise, fusty bus shelters and public toilets that approximate what it was to be holed up, hunkered down with a dozen brave men.

He narrowly escapes arrest after one trip to the latter. Merlin, arriving just in time, makes the burly constable recall an urgent appointment elsewhere, then hustles Arthur away, explaining. 

"That's _not_ what I was after!"

"I know," Merlin says. There's a flush on his cheeks, a grim set to his jaw. Arthur doesn't know how to tell him that he's not offended by grown men taking pleasure in one another – quite the contrary, if his reaction to those videos he's found on the computer are anything to go by – but by the constable's coarse manner.

~ > ~

Arthur only watches the videos when Merlin's away. They titillate, but ultimately leave him frustrated, just like his pillows. Just like Merlin, who has obviously succumbed to this era's ruthless soaps and odd perfumes.

Arthur catches himself sometimes, eyes half-closed and leaning in. It's only after Merlin's been for one of his long, demon-dispelling runs that he smells anything like the friend who'd held him, eased him into the grey slumber of Avalon.

~ > ~

One night, desperate, Arthur snatches a rank pair of Merlin's socks and a shirt from the hamper and stuffs them in his pillowcases, just to have _something_. He sleeps better than he has since stumbling off that muddy tor, wakes to a warm tickle of sunshine on his face and his cock thickening between his thighs.

~ > ~

The next time Merlin's out on a job, Arthur stops by the hamper before heading to the study. It's not until he's settled in, video playing, that he realises there's something else tangled inside the shorts. It's one of those strappy pouches Merlin runs in – ripe with musky sweat, thick enough to coat the back of his throat.

He forgets all about the video, closing his eyes and mashing the thing over his nose and mouth, sucking the scent deep into his lungs. He takes his time, using slow, firm strokes until he's lightheaded, gasping, his orgasm bucking against the reins. It's better than any he remembers.

~ > ~

Arthur thinks back on their before, ponders all of Merlin's lifetimes since. He digs out the boxes of framed photos, the ones that'd disappeared the day after his return. Stunned, he waits for Merlin in the lounge, pacing, bellows for him the instant he hears the key in the lock.

"Arthur? What on earth's the – "

" _I'm_ meant to be with you," Arthur blurts. "I want to be. If you'll have me?"

Merlin's expression goes from slap-shocked to puzzled, wary. "Er, you know you're welcome to stay as long as – "

"No." Arthur makes Merlin look at the photos, prods each adoring face. " _With you_ with you, like he was, and her, and him, and them – _all_ of them." He waves an arm at the rest. "And now me. Full stop."

"Oh," Merlin says. 

Arthur experiences a moment of blind panic before being gifted with that perfect, unfettered smile.

~ > ~

Merlin's mouth often tastes disappointingly minty-fresh, but Arthur perseveres, wrestling him onto the nearest surface, kissing until the flavour's worn away. He lives for post-run sex, camping trips, protracted power cuts.

"You should wash less," he often grumbles into a pine-scented armpit or between soap-scoured thighs, urging Merlin to flip over, push his little bottom up. "You hardly smell like yourself, except just – _mmph._ "

Yes. Right there. Arthur laps at it, inhaling deeply, holding the scent of his world on his tongue.


End file.
